Spoken
by Cybrokat
Summary: Hermione finds her professor's voice elemental in an important situation.


A/N: First story published on . Just a little PWP. As posted on Ashwinder. Queue Standard Disclaimer.

Hermione walked slightly behind her professor as they headed into the dungeons. The chill was not the reason she was shaking. She followed him to what could only be the entrance to his rooms and heard him whisper a password.

Following him into his chambers was surreal experience. She had imagined often what the teachers were offered for accommodations. A large, dim room greeted her with a low fire burning on the far wall. A large, wooden, well loved desk on her right and a seating area with bookshelves to her left. Beside the entrance was another to, she assumed, a master suite. She was afraid she was about to become all too familiar with that room.

Hermione stood awkwardly in the doorway as she watched him putter about the room. "Make yourself comfortable, Ms. Granger," he prompted.

"I – I don't really think I can, Sir." she replied.

He turned to her, raising an all too familiar eyebrow. "Is this room not acceptable?"

"Well, no, it's fine. Really. I think it's just more of why I'm here Professor. I mean, neither one of us signed up for this, and I know it's going to be ok in the long run, and we both agreed to it, but still, I can't help but feel that the whole thing would have been better if you've been paired with someone whom you at least _liked_ and…"

He held up a hand to silence her. "It's true that wedding and bedding a young Gryffindor was not what I had in mind for my weekend. Be that as it may, it could have been a less… appropriate match. It could have been the young Ms. Weasley."

"I could have been paired with Crabbe!" said Hermione, her horror taking her mind of her nervousness for a moment. "I suppose Headmistress McGonagall can't have rumours flying about her Head Girl and her Potion's Master. But that's all they were, Professor! Rumours! Just students repeating whatever was spoken. Yes, we've been working closely to help bring about the end of this whole war and I hope we've come to a certain…understanding but I can't believe they thought we were actually sleeping together! I _am_ glad no one thought I was with Crabbe though."

"I can imagine, Ms. Granger."

"It's not really Ms. Granger anymore though is it?" Hermione said softly as she sat on the sofa.

"I suppose not." he said and walked to where she was seated.

She glanced up to him and resumed her nervousness. She had been hearing the silly rumours around the school for weeks and had assumed it would die down with the rest of the usual gossip. She had been wrong. Apparently the thought of Creepy Bat and Goody Two-Shoes together was more than anyone could handle and the rumours just grew and grew. Eventually McGonagall spoke to them both to reach the bottom of it. She asked them both straight if they hated each other as she so hopefully believed. They had stood in her office stunned, both glancing at each other as a blush rose on Hermione's cheeks. Taking this as a confirmation of what she was hearing in the staff room, she insisted they both wed at once. She would not have the Head Girl's authority undermined, and she certainly would not put her lead spy in danger if word went around that he was flirting around with one of her students. Better he can say he was forced into it if he is going to be dallying anyway!

"We have things to accomplish this evening Ms…Hermione, and the hour draws nigh." he said to her.

"Yes. I suppose you're right…Severus?"

He nodded to her. "Severus will be fine. Would you prefer to move into the bedroom?" He looked down at her as he heard her sharp intake of breath. Sweet Merlin, she was so tense you could chop nettles on her.

"Yeah. I mean, yes. Sure. That would be fine." she stammered as she rose from her seat.

He led her through the other door, bringing her into the unremarkable bedroom. A four poster with a dark brown comforter dominated the room with a bed stand, an armoire and a chair being the only other furniture. Hermione hesitantly sat on the bed and looked at her still-professor-now-husband with a growing unease.

Snape once again moved to her side. "May I?" he asked, glancing down at the robes she wore, clasped around her neck.

She nodded to him and he brought up his hands, gently undoing the clasp and sliding the robes off her shoulders. Taking hers in one hand, he undid his own and threw them both over the chair. "I going to use the facilities," he told her. He gestured to the bed and said, "Feel free to make yourself at home."

_At home_. she thought. _Ok. What would I be doing at home? Hmm, how about not my potion's professor? _She let out a sigh and figured she might as well make it as easy as she could on both of them, and stepped out of her dress and undergarments, swiftly sliding underneath the covers.

He emerged softly after, having briefly showered. As his soft and gray sleep pants clung to his backside the same way the now damp hair framed his face, Hermione decided this may not be such a bad thing after all. She had admitted to herself long ago that she admired many things about him. It should be no wonder that she found something new. And a nice rounded backside was a very nice thing to admire.

He strode over to the bed and slipped beneath the covers alongside her. Rolling on his side to face her, he gazed at her for a long moment with his brow slightly furrowed.

"Would you feel better if you knew I haven't done this for a longer period then you've been alive, Hermione?"

"How would you feel having never done this all, Pr…Severus?" Hermione shot back. Her eyes widened a little as she realized what she had said. Great. Not only admitting it, but doing it with cheek._ Good job Hermione,_ she thought to herself and laid her head back onto the pillow.

So now it comes out. The girl was not merely inexperienced as he had derived from her nervousness. "Would you feel better if this were someone else?" he asked.

"No."

Well, it's not him then at least. Surprising, but good. He rested his dark eyes back onto her face, pinched with embarrassment. Underneath the blanket, he reached a hand to her and gently touched the skin below her diaphragm and felt her inhale. "Is my advance unwelcome?"

Hermione blushed a bit before responding. "Not really. I trust you. It's just not every day I come across a situation I can't study for. For some reason, I couldn't find the 'Losing Your Virginity to a Man You've Admired from Afar' chapter in _Hogwarts: A History._ 'Bewitching the Mind and Ensnaring the Senses: A Gryffindor Guide to Potions Masters' was also missing." She heard the audible click as Snape's mouth snapped shut. "Sorry. I guess I just let my mouth run away from me sometimes."

"A trait I've noticed, I assure you." he responded. He moved a bit closer to her on the bed, and leaning down to her ear whispered, "Just try to relax."

This seemed to have the desired effect as Hermione slowly released a deep breath, shaking the tension out of her shoulders and closing her eyes. He reached his hand back across to her stomach and one again began his administrations.

Ever so slowly he ran his fingers along her torso, feeling the dip beneath her ribs, the gentle swell of her stomach, around the bottom and back up to lightly rest on one breast. He lingered there, noticing how she was fighting to control her breathing. He could almost hear her mental chant. _Breathe in. Breathe out. _Sliding his hand back down again, he reached the place he was sure no man had dare tread. He laid the flat of his palm just below her belly button with his fingers pointing away and slowly brought his hand down as he felt her tighten once again. "Relax, Hermione," he lightly intoned.

She glanced up at him. His dark, still damp hair. The crest of his nose. The imploring look in his near-black eyes. He really was attractive but so far only one thing had managed to relax her. "Talk to me."

The eyebrow once again asserted itself. "I don't believe I am quite adept at talking dirty, Hermione, and we are not at the point of pillow talk."

His fingers were still kneading the swell between her legs and she was feeling a different sort of tension. "I don't think it quite matters what you say. Just _talk_," she exclaimed a bit breathlessly.

It was his turn to say as his mind reeled. Just talk. Worthless prattle. Surely he could come up with something. "You are not the only one who lets your mouth get ahead of yourself at times, Hermione." At just this simple statement, he could feel her legs opening up beneath his hand. He slipped his fingers into the warm crevice and continued. "Too many times it seems I let my anger get the best of me. Not censuring my thoughts, or even worse, saying things that were not my intention in the first place. Such as my comment about your teeth. Insipid, meaningless drivel. There is certainly nothing wrong with any part of your face."

Incredibly, she arched her back beneath him. At her response, he figured her tactic had merit and lowered his head to her ear and brought his fingers deeper inside her. He found the well of her wetness and dipped in the quill of one long finger. Running it back up to the little nerve bud he touched on earlier, he dropped his voice a little and told her, "And even worse in your third year. To so openly show prejudice against a colleague was certainly beneath me. And who should point out to the rest of the class what I was trying to accomplish? You of course, my little know-it-all. Not even bothering to have your raised hand acknowledged, you just blurted out the answers and almost spoiled it." He chuckled deeply.

Hermione was listening intently to every word as she felt him in her nether regions. Merlin's pink toe socks, what this man was doing to her. And this was at least 17 years rusty? Just think of when he had brushed up again. And he was all hers. She reached an arm out and wrapped it around his neck, bringing his face to hers. She gave him a quick kiss and beseeched him to continue.

Deciding to take things up a notch, he took one, then two fingers into her and gently prepared her, stretched her for what would surely be an uncomfortable fit at first. He slid his long frame over her and risked a glance to her face. Her sweaty and heated complexion told him all he needed to know. She was ready.

He brought the tip of his erection to where his fingers had just left. As he started to push forward, he inexplicably felt her tense beneath him once more.

"Please," she pleaded. "Keep talking."

A curt nod and the story continued. "I thought I was being clever, assigning you lot to read about Werewolves. I should have known better by then to try to pull one past you. You were always too clever for your own good." By now he had slid into her, reaching her hymen, stretched taut before him. "This is not going to be pleasant and I apologize."

She gave a little cry and panted with the sharp pain and pleasure that followed. He leaned down over her, one arm on each side to support his weight. With his lips once again by her hair and the curtain of his hair around both of their faces he continued. "Of course you questioned me. Not many could ever get away with questioning me in class at all, Hermione. Let alone with only a five point deduction. But you could, and did, and I had to assign you an essay over the reading to ensure my point would be made."

By both now both parties were breathing heavily. Hermione brought her knees to her chest as her arms found their way to his shoulders. Snape had found his rhythm and was delving as deep inside her as her unmarked vessel would allow.

"And the page?" she inquired.

"Page?"

"Page! The page. What page was the essay to cover?"

Nearing completion, he was gasping for air as he thought back. They stared at each other as he leaned forward, almost nose to nose with her and gravelly spoke.

"Page three hundred...and ninety four."

With a scream she clamped her legs around him. Throwing her head back, she gave in to her orgasm and felt him lose himself in her as well.

Talking was apparently not overrated.


End file.
